Three Month Agreement (ENGLISH)

Zehra Clarabelle Mineses The saying goes, it's not your fault if you were born poor, but it's your fault if you die poor. But for people like us who weren't given a chance at something better in life, what choice do we have? If we don't work hard every day, we won't have anything to buy food with. Each sunrise reminds us of our struggles as we fight for scraps, hoping to survive another day while others are so lucky to live in luxury. And they say hard work will help us succeed, but what if life is stacked against us? Even if I work 24 hours a day, I still wouldn't earn as much as those who make more in an hour than I do in a month. "How many kilos do I have, Tonyo?" I asked the guy watching over the junkshop. I looked at him while he counted the coins. I needed to hurry; it was getting dark. There would surely be heavy rain coming. "Eight kilos of plastic, two kilos of cans," Tonyo replied. I sighed. That would only be P219 total for the plastic and cans. "Here, Zehra," he handed me the money, and I looked at it for a few seconds. Would this be enough to buy food until tomorrow? I don't think so... What would I tell Seya? For sure, she's not yet eating dinner. I need to buy bread and something to fill our stomachs—maybe a few eggs and a couple of vegetables. But even then, I'm not sure it would stretch far enough. "Thanks, Tonyo," I said, forcing a smile as I tucked the money into my pocket. "Don't you have any papers, Zehra? Aren't you going to school to get some?" he asked me. "It's raining, and my bike doesn't have a cover, so the papers will just get wet," I replied. Once I made sure he gave me the correct amount, I grabbed the sacks where I put my stuff to sell. "Tomorrow I'll be here again if I'm lucky enough to get some. Thanks again, Tonyo," I said. He gave me a thumbs-up, then I hopped on my bike. For someone like me, who's twenty years old, I should've finished college by now. But here I am, still trading. Fighting for life. Struggling... "Ahh. I am really unlucky today. It's going to rain now." I pedaled faster as I felt large drops hitting me. It had been scorching hot all day, and now suddenly it was raining heavily. My heart clenched because I was starting to pity myself again. But isn't that normal to feel? When you sense that life isn't really being nice to you? "Just keep on working hard, Zehra Clarabelle. Better days are coming for you and Seya." As the rain intensified, I stopped by the side of a building. It was getting dark, and there were few people around. Some were already on their way home, while others sought shelter under nearby roofs to stay dry. I wiped myself with the dry cloth I had with me. In weather like this, even in the summer, I always carry extra clothes. It often rains, and the weather in the Philippines is really unpredictable. That's also why people often get sick. Maybe it's because of climate change, I thought, shaking my head. "Cigarettes, cigarettes, cigarettes." I watched as a lady passed in front of me, tapping her cigarette box while offering smokes to the few people around her. Life is tough. For people like us, if we don't find ways to earn, we're left struggling to survive each day. Without that hustle, we might as well be waiting to die of starvation. I scratched my nose as it itched. I wouldn't be out this late if I weren't waiting for the trash bin to be emptied at the eatery near the plaza, where I usually hang out. I've grown close to the staff there, and they often give me the plastic bottles they throw away. It's a big help for me and my sibling. "My kids are waiting for me, but the rain won't stop. Looks like I'll be another half hour." I turned toward the woman who spoke, and suddenly, I remembered Seya—my sister, my only family—who was surely waiting for me with worry because it was already dark. "I'll just call Mom. She's probably worried sick about me," said another girl, a student judging by her uniform. After staring at her for a moment, she turned to look at me. Embarrassed that I was caught, I quickly looked down and forced a smile. I envy people like them. They can study, and their parents are waiting for them at home. They have nice shelter for sure, a warm bed to sleep in, and meals ready on the table. I wish I could provide that for Seya, but instead, we're stuck living under the bridge, where the noise and vibrations from cars make it hard to sleep. Our home is nothing more than four walls that barely keep the rain out, and most nights, we go to bed hungry. It's hard not to feel bitter when you see others enjoying the simple comforts of life while you're left scrambling for scraps. But I remind myself that I need to keep pushing forward—for Seya's sake. I took a deep breath and sighed heavily. You're doing great, Zehra Clarabelle. Better days will come, okay? I'm really trying my best. I'm twenty years old and never went to school, but I'm working hard to earn money for my sister. Because of what I've experienced in life at such a young age—losing my parents and taking care of my sister while we fight to survive—I've learned that the world isn't really fair. As the wealthy grow richer, the poor are left struggling to survive. The saying that dying poor always pisses me off. I've heard that line most often from privileged people who have no idea what it's like to struggle every day just to survive. Not everyone gets good opportunities in life. Like me—while others are in school, I'm here trading and searching for scraps. This has been my job for years because no one wanted to hire me. Who would hire me? I only finished elementary school. When my parents died in the flood, no one stepped in to take care of Seya and me. No relatives wanted to accept us. I had to put my education on hold to care of her. Now, she's the driving force behind my hard work. At fifteen, she's a kind and dedicated student, and by God's grace, she excels in her studies. We've been fortunate enough to earn a scholarship, which gives me hope for her future. "Finally, we could go home." "Aahh. Yes. I want to lie down in my bed. I'm so tired. I finished a lot of paperwork." "I still need to review for tomorrow. I hope I can just sleep tonight." Those were the sentiments I heard. I looked up at the sky, it was dark because it's already 7:00 in the evening, but thankfully, the rain had stopped. I hadn't noticed earlier because I was lost in thought and remembering the past. I walked over to my bike and set off for home. It would take me about an hour to finally reach our place under the bridge. This is how my life unfolds every day. Sometimes, I feel like giving up. I've even thought about jumping off the bridge, but then I see my sister striving to study, even without electricity and sometimes without food. That sight fills me with the courage to keep fighting in life. She's my only reason to continue. "Seya must be so worried about me, and I'm sure she's scared being all alone there," I muttered, pedaling faster. But in my rush, I didn't see a car coming around the corner. I hit the brakes, but it was too late. I crashed into a pole, and my bike and I fell to the ground. Shit. "Ouch..." I groaned, rubbing my sore bottom. As I realized what had just happened, I looked up and felt angry as I glared at the car that almost hit me. "Rich people," I muttered. Some of these four-wheeler drivers don't care about the road. They speed around, not noticing the people they could hurt. And when something happens to their fancy cars, they blame us. It's frustrating to think that our lives mean so little to them. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my anger. I got back on my feet, brushing dirt off my clothes. Then I picked up my bike and checked for any damage. Luckily, it seemed fine. Suddenly, a man appeared beside me, startling me. "Hey, are you okay?" He gently held my arm. He was tall, with fair skin and a pointed nose. He looked like a celebrity! But no! You shouldn't be swayed by his face, Zehra! The man in front of you almost hit you! "Are you hurt? I'm sorry, I didn't see you. It's too dark in this part of the road," he said, glancing at my bike. He went over to it, propping it back up, and then picked up the sacks and other things that had fallen. Okay... that was unexpected. "Oh, no... uhm, it's okay. You'll get dirty," I replied to the man. "I am really sorry. Are you hurt? Let's go to the hospital." I shook my head repeatedly, gripping the handlebars of my bike as I prepared to leave. Honestly, my mood had shifted. At least the man seemed genuinely apologetic and concerned. I could feel his sincerity that he really didn't mean to hit me. He was also right about this part of the road being dark. "I'm fine, nothing hurts," I said, forcing a smile to reassure him. But he still looked skeptical, glancing between me and my bike. "Are you sure? But—" "Errol, what took you so long? Just give the kid some money," another voice called out, interrupting him and causing him to pause. My gaze shifted to another man who had stepped out of the car. He wore a black long-sleeve polo, and his brow was furrowed in a stern expression. I narrowed my eyes at him. While the man named Errol seemed kind and genuinely worried, that one from the car had an arrogant air about him. His rigid posture and cold gaze made me feel like I was just another problem for him to deal with. "Wait, Thauce! I'm just making sure that the she is fine!" So, his name is Thauce? Errol then turned to me and smiled. "Are you sure you're alright? If you feel anything bad, here's my calling card. Just call me," he said, handing me a small card. "And please take this money. I'm really sorry, again." I was taken aback when he handed me five thousand pesos. T-This is too much. "W-Wait! I can't accept this--" "I'll go now. Be safe!" I was speechless. I wanted to return the money because I wasn't really hurt, and my bike was still fine, but he had already turned and was getting into his car. When I glanced back at the man who had called him, I noticed he stood with his arms crossed, looking at me with a grumpy expression. So, Thauce and Errol? An angel and a devil. I smiled and put the money into my pocket. I guess God blessed me tonight. Maybe not all rich people are heartless. Like Errol...